The No and the Nod of God

I haven't been posting as much, lately--I know. But I've been having a sort of mini revival--all thanks to recently discovering anew that God's No is not the same as God's frown. I suddenly feel so loved and protected, in spite of all the No's I've had.

God's No is not such a bad thing, I've been discovering. But No is not a word we normally enjoy or appreciate.

Think of it: when you were a child and you reached out for something and heard a severe "No!" it was probably not an enjoyable experience. There might have been a No to dessert, a No to getting a toy, a No to going to a party. We remember the No's. And yes, of course, your parents (hopefully) said No to protect you: No to touching hot stoves, No to walking alone at Night, No to staying past curfew, etc etc. But still, a No is not a word we heartily embrace.

The word "No" has gotten a bad rep. And lately I've been discovering that when God says No, He might just be saying "I love you too much to let you go through that door....at least right now." Sometimes No is "Not yet" and sometimes God's No is a resounding Alarm not too unlike the clanging fire alarm that goes off because a call comes into the local fire station that some bo-bo has set their kitchen on fire because they had their dish towel too close to the stove (I have never done that, but I have set my hair on fire when I leaned too close to the candle, once. But no fire truck was needed, thank you).

When God says No it could often mean an indirect Yes to something else--something you don't YET have in mind, but God does. God always has your Best in mind when He answers you. Because He knows the plans He has for you (Jer. 29:11).

Lately I've had a renewed enthusiasm in coming to God in prayer and discovering that I really don't care whether he says No or nods Yes--I just care that He cares, that He bends down to listen to me...and that His Answer is always perfect, always in my best interest. Sometimes it takes me awhile to figure out His answer.

But one thing I know for sure: I'm begining to appreciate and love the No and the Nod of God...because I know that He loves me.

Are You Hungry?

I noticed that the happier I get, the more I talk about baking and recipes and cooking. And if you look closely at me, you''ll see that I don't really eat all that much (well, for the most part, I don't)- but that doesn't stop me from thinking of food and sustenance when I'm thinking of good times.

My Mom doesn't cook anymore. She doesn't do much of anything anymore except to smile and love you with those blue eyes of hers looking at you with quiet joy. But Mom used to fill our house, growing up, with food- lots of food, hot food, weird recipes, cream of wheat hot breakfasts, hot apple crisp for dessert. Mom cooked and cooked her way through all our ups and downs of family life. And she made me think that nothing could be better than to be loved well and be well fed.

I try to do that. I try to love my kids and my husband and feed them as though I had no other way to show love than to cook and bake for them. When I'm especially burden-free, I cook up a storm. The kitchen becomes a mess. I'm covered in flour. But I'm happy and there's something good to eat at the end of it all.

And at the end of a day, I want my loved ones to feel full: full of happiness, full of peace. I can't bear the thought of children starving anywhere. And I can't bear the thought of a child starved for attention either. There's something haunting about someone who aches for love and cries out to be noticed.

That's why I love that old hymn about "Bread of Heaven, feed me till I want no more... Fill my cup, fill it up and make me whole". I realize that God is not only in the business of feeding His children, but He loves to feed us; He delights to feed us. We can open our mouths to heaven like little birds chirping in a nest and know that something good is coming every time we cry out to Him for whatever it is that we are, deep down, hungering for.

Special Arrangements

I love Country Home Magazine and other Home and Decorating magazines for this very reason you see here: this gorgeous photo of a floral arrangement I doubt I could ever "arrange." But I'm good at staring at beauty and salivating over it.

I'm also good at arranging things such as dates, appointments, reservations when making a trip, prompt bill paying, and packing.

You should see the great job I did of packing up my son for college. He doesn't care about things like clean boxers and contact solution and medicines all labeled in a box. But I care. I care about these things. And I know he'll care when he gets a cold or runs out of clean laundry or when I get the phone call and he'll ask if I packed his contact solution because he can't find it. And I'll tell him, "Yes, Alex, I took care of all that. It's all there. It's all been arranged."

I'm a Mom- and like the title of this Country Home photo "Special Arrangements"- I make special arrangements every day. I'm proud to do so. I don't see them as menial tasks. These are the profoundly simple but beautiful things I do to show that I care. They don't have to see it this way- the people for whom I make all these special arrangements. I just have to remember that these simple tasks I do are for special people I love and arranged out of love.

The Wisdom of Solomon

I have a decision to make about one of my children. Nothing big. Just a decision that will affect the rest of her life. Just a decision that will affect her level of confidence, her outlook, her sense of self. She's 14 going on 15. Ask yourself this: what was the most pivotal time period in your life? What time period would you most want to re-do and get right? Where did the hurt and handicaps come in? Chances are it was the period in your life between age 12 and 20: the teenage years.

My husband and I need to decide where our daughter should go to school next year. Where should she spend her high school years? Should we continue homeschooling? Should we try the local but humongous public high school in town? If we could come up with the money, should we go back to private Christian school?

It's not a question, so much, of where would she get the best education. Your teenage years are not just about getting the best education. Ask anyone who had a hard time as a teenager- "Yes you felt suicidal and you had no friends but did you get a good education?!!" and they'll look at you like the nutcase you are.

Healthy minded people value education as much as they value a sound mind and an active, normal social life. Navigate the teenage years, again, and tell me what you want to get right this time. Do you want to memorize more Shakespeare quotations or do you want to be the kid with the friends and the smile on his face? Do you want a higher GPA or do you want to make better choices in relationships and involvements? Do you want more courses this time, or more positive experiences where you grew in confidence and strength of purpose?

Is it just me, or were our teenage years more powerful, problematic, and pivotal than our parents first realized? Back when I was a teenager, everyone went to public school. You just put up with what ever was going to come your way. No parent wrestled with choices of education and things-that-can-go-wrong like we do now.

Of course the catastrophes, back then, were somewhat limited to teenage pregnancy and drug addiction. Now you can add in a huge increase in teenage suicide, anorexia and bulimia, cutting and self-mutilation, all kinds of sexually transmitted diseases, bullying to the point of inducing suicide. Oh, it's a beautiful life.

Now I'm not saying this runs rampant in every high school. There's a lot of wonderful things happening in school as well. It's just that there's a lot we parents see and there's a lot we don't see or don't hear about. You really need the wisdom of Solomon to help navigate your teen through the teenage years.

You need to be pro-active and discerning- but you mustn't be paranoid and overly protective. You need to challenge your kid to stand up and grow in confidence- but you also need to know when the bruised reed is breaking. I know so many parents where their child broke under the strain of something, and they did not see it happening till the final crack.

Apparently this wisdom of Solomon is something we can also have- according to James 1. If we lack wisdom, we're supposed to ask God for it. He's supposed to give it to us- and give it to us without ridiculing us or mocking us for how uninformed and unprepared we are to deal with things. The one caveat is that we are supposed to ask in such a way that our belief of receiving it is evident. No fooling God.

This kind of wisdom we are asking for is not a mystical crazy eight ball that helps us make our choices with a flick of the wrist. It's a practical wisdom. It's prudence (an old fashioned word). It's having the right application of knowledge. It's insight into the situation you are facing.

It's not just the teenage years that are so critical. Anytime you are dealing with a situation of many sides, many challenges, many chances for error- you need wisdom. You need it badly.

I often think of King Solomon and all his splendor (and all his wives- no wonder he needed wisdom). I think of the times in which we live. I think of all the choices and all the catastrophes and crises that people face. I think of how we need wisdom more than ever. And then I contemplate how much wisdom do I already have? Is wisdom really even quantifiable? Can I even tell when I am operating in wisdom?

These are the questions I have that I'm not even sure Solomon himself could answer. I need to make some decisions. I'd like to know the future outcome of what I decide before I decide it- but that's not gonna happen. So what I'll do for now is keep holding my hand out, my head up, my eyes open, and ask and search for that wisdom like a hound on a rabbit scent.

The hope I have is in the generosity of God's plan to give that wisdom. "If any of you lacks wisdom, let him ask of God, who gives to all liberally and without reproach, and it will be given to him."

I think God's going to hear from me a lot more than He ever did from Solomon.

Stale Marshmallow Bunnies and New Thoughts on Grace

The marshmallow bunnies are all on clearance and there's rainbow colored jelly beans everywhere you look. Easter is over. We're in the midst of Spring. This should be a bright sunny season of our life. But just because its Spring and just because Christ rose from the dead and we can, potentially, have a life of victory and overcoming power, doesn't mean we do. Well, we do- and we don't. It's that already-but-not-yet syndrome of the Christian life that we're always wrestling with.

Just because I celebrated Christ's resurrection on Sunday, doesn't mean that I live a life of new thoughts, new hopes and new dreams. I don't. A lot of old stuff creeps into my life and I deal with moldy thoughts and decaying dreams. I sort through a lot of stuff, mentally, and am always trying to figure out what is outdated, what is lost or futile, and what is locked in lack of grace. I should probably be concentrating on more on where the grace is, where the light is- but its human nature to mourn and regret and look back.

I'm reading Jon Katz's latest book and its beautiful and sweet and troubling. He had a troubled childhood. He loves animals. He's a gifted writer. So what results from that combination is a story about his life on a farm with his animals and the underlying feelings and memories we have when we're stroking the top of our dog's head, or feeling soothed by their weight as they lean against us, sighing with contentment. We're comforted by our animal companions, but we're sometimes enjoying their companionship while feeling alone at the same time because these pets know nothing of the weight of pressures and responsibilities we face.

My dog, Harry, is usually contented and at rest. He lives to be near me- and if I'm not available, he'll take my husband or kids as second choice. He mourned my son's absence for a while- when he went off to college- but now Harry has adjusted to the changes in our household.

That's the key thing- isn't it?- adjusting to the changes that take place in our life, however small or large they may be. Seems to me that those who are agile and quick to adjust to change do better than those of us who wrestle with why the change is occurring instead of getting with the reality that Change has occurred.

If you're going through a trial or challenge right now, a dog's warm furry body pressed against you as you stare vacantly out a window might comfort you some. But it can't take away the feeling of weight or worry. And meditating on the power God has to raise the dead can help you lift your eyes and ask Him for help- but it can't take away the scenario you face. You're going to walk through the valley of the shadow of death: maybe death of a dream or a hope you had, maybe death of innocence or naivete, or maybe its the death of a plan you had to get you someplace- any place but where you are.

I take comfort in the fact that for everyone who heard the news of Christ's resurrection, there was disbelief, a sense of incredulity, doubt even, and denial. How can it be? How can LIFE occur when all is lost, gone, or without breath? How can I think it's not over when I was told it's all over?

God likes to rattle our cages. He loves to cheer up the downtrodden. And He especially likes to prove me wrong when I tell Him I'm too weary to get excited about anything because life is too uphill.

That's when God turns the tables, turns my world upside down, and makes me go flying deliriously downhill like a skier shooting down the mountain- only now its not a terrifying trip but a coasting down over the very mountains that I had just been trying to climb. God decides when you can't take anymore- and He's a very good judge of our actual abilities to cope.

And when we feel like we're at the edge of what we can stand, He has an experience in mind that changes what we think about ourselves, our God, our trial, our life. It's an experience of grace. And it will be there when you need it most.

More, Please!

Our son is back at his college campus, ready to start his second semester; and so our house is quiet again. I'm not baking up a storm anymore. Daily cakes and banana breads don't need to appear on the kitchen counter anymore. Our hunger- Bill's, Abby's and mine- is manageable. But when you're feeding a nineteen year old, their hunger never ends. It's a good sign, though. It means that they're healthy and growing.

Lately I've been thinking about spiritual hunger, what it is, what it isn't. I've been thinking about the things we do to address our hunger. And then I got thinking about the many ways God fills us when we're hungry. Like a gourmet chef in a deluxe kitchen, God has everything at His disposal to fix us up something that simply satiates our soul. And lately I've been discovering how easy it is to get your voracious appetite addressed: show up at meal time!

The thing is, God doesn't serve routinely. In spite of what many might think, I'm not so sure that Sunday is God's favorite day to "feed" us. I think He also likes Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday..... Maybe what really motivates Him, pulls on His heart, is hunger- real hunger. And God can tell- even when we can't- when we are truly hungering for Him. Those who hunger....are filled. By Him. He says it in His Word. If we are not getting filled, then we have to wonder: am I really hungry? Am I, maybe, just a fussy eater who is going to pick at whatever is offered, anyways, and the great Chef can tell that?

In our house, growing up, fussy eaters were frowned upon...tremendously. My parents' goal seemed to be to continually expose us to the choicest and weirdest of foods. Maturity meant you tried everything and oohed and ahhed over the flavor of it all. You really needed to pretend that you were enjoying the experience of eating all these healthy, strange foods, or you were going to be continually presented with them, over and over. Actually, even if you liked eating deer meat, soy beans, baked trout, or a weird lumpy kind of cheese, you were still going to keep getting these foods. This is the diet they thought was best.

So I wonder if we take our food fears to God. Do we place on Him our apprehension that we just know, for sure, that he is going to feed us something we don't like when we say we are hungry. And worse, if we go to God and say that we are hungry, and we don't even know for what, will God then surprise us with something awful and lumpy and chewy and tell us that THIS is what we were hungry for?

I read Jentezen Franklin's book on Fasting just before the New Year, and now I am reading a book about a woman who enters cooking contests. There's a lot of food descriptions in the book. Most of them do not entice me at all. I might have particular tastes, I am finding out.

I enjoy a good chunk of homemade bread with a lump of butter. I'll eat a piece of cake, once in a while, but for the most part I'm not that drawn to sugary things. Give me a steak (medium rare) anytime. And sure, throw in vegetables. Not because they're good for me. I like them. Especially if they're not overcooked. I love baked potatoes with sour cream and chives. And in the fish and seafood family, I'll take lobster, scallops, shrimp cocktail, and baked haddock. Oh, and lots of fresh spinach or spinach in a quiche. And omelettes with mushrooms, onions and swiss cheese.

See? A lot of this stuff is good for me- but I don't eat it primarily because of that. All of the food listed above are some favorites of mine. They satisfy my hunger and my taste buds. I've developed a taste for some of the above, and some foods I loved from early on. That's my physical hunger.

As for my spiritual hunger, I'm finding out that I relish not only times alone with God in quiet thought and reflective journal writing, but lately I've been quite chatty with Him. And I feel His pleasure at being with me. We've had a running repartee- with God getting His thoughts to me through a sense that I'm "feeling" His answer, rather than audibly hearing His replies.

People have asked me this question: how do you know when you are really hearing God talk to you? For me, it's when I hear something in my spirit that is too gracious and truthful and loving and forgiving for it to have come from me so quickly and easily. Proverbs tells us that " a soft answer turns away wrath" and I know that a gracious answer turns away doubt and fear. A loving, forgiving, welcoming answer draws me in.

You might say this is all about how He feeds me. I'm learning that with God, the feast that He prepares for me (in the presence of mine enemies, Psalm 23 tells us) is a feast that I want- even if I don't know it yet. He whets my appetite for more of Him as a way to draw me in and give me what I've been hungering for. He's glorious and He's good. To me. And I want more of Him.

A Certain Economy

Be careful about reading news headlines that scream out shocking truths about the economy. They're meant to scare you. They're pretty much the truth. They're meant to jolt you awake. But they're not meant to minister to your spirit. And you need that just as much as you need truthful information about our economy.

There's a certain veracity to the argument that our nation's economy is on a roller coaster descent of frightening means. Like a roller coaster that got mad and fed up with staying on track and now its off track, and plunging downward. And the fact that its shocking everybody with its plunge makes the roller coaster slightly pleased. It can't help itself. It was telling everyone that it was coming off the tracks and no one was listening.

But then there's another economy that we have to consider. And I was reminded of this at church yesterday. There's God's Economy. And in this economy, the headlines never scream for attention, never delight in evil and in scaring people. There are sober warnings in God's economy- such as you reap what you sow. Such as -be careful to take the plank out of your own eye before you help someone with their lack of vision. And in God's economy, there is an assurance of harvest after a sowing has taken place. What there is not in God's economy is an absolute time table laid out that tells you exactly when this harvest occurs, exactly when everything takes place.

I felt a lifting in my spirits yesterday. That happens when people pray for you. That happens when the yoke of fear gets broken. That often happens when you get together with other people who are honestly and earnestly seeking the Lord. I think we've found a church home. I think we're home now- even if we're still journeying onward.

There's this guy at our church who sits near the back usually. He has a low voice, a soothing voice. And all throughout the worship time- times of exuberant singing and times of beautiful repetitive singing of a certain chorus- this guy will interject his heartfelt exclamations of truth. "You're the King of Kings and we love you" or "You're worthy of praise" or in the case of yesterday, "You've lit our fire, Lord." Oh, yes. That He has.

And God can light a fire of faith in you that rages stronger than the frightening news of a troubled economy. God's economy and its truths can be your internal compass. And while the effects of our natural economy do hit us, hard at times, we still can decide which economy has the most influence over us, over our state of mind, our sense of well being.

In God's economy, those who sow- even while weeping- eventually come to a place of reaping a harvest. Psalm 126 reminds of this. Those who sow in tears shall reap in joy.He who continually goes forth weeping, bearing seed for sowing, shall doubtless come again with rejoicing, bringing his sheaves with him.

My favorite part of that verse is actually just one word- doubtless. Without a doubt. Cause everything in our natural economy tells you that you don't have assurance of anything. So everyone is filled with fear and doubt. But in God's economy, there's Someone eternally solvent who is backing up every single one of His promises. He will have the ultimate say. His kingdom economy is stable and just. No one can sow in faith and come back empty handed. I say that without a doubt in His mind.

Vocabulary and Vacation Time Lessons

Okay, so I did want to hole up this morning, like a turtle cloistered in its shell, but I made myself shower and then make the bed. I did it, by faith, and then I was glad.

Next I'll be going over new vocabulary words with Abby, thankfully saying good-bye to last week's words of holocaust, annihilate, recluse, cloister, pandemonium. There's been enough pandemonium, nationally and world wide, to last us for quite a while. But we also had two important vocabulary words that I treasure right now: omnipotence and omnipresent. And even though I don't literally see God everywhere, He is- and He's powerful and capable of taking us through any kind of storm that comes our way.

I've decided to also mentally and pictorially re-visit our vacation time we enjoyed this summer because I think there's more lessons for me to glean. I remember coming home from our week at the North Shore feeling changed; not just refreshed, but literally renewed. I had a new way of looking at things, and a new hope that I was not as lost as I had felt I was.

And now with the way things are in the political and economic world, I need to know, more than ever, that I am not lost, that I am not rising or falling in security and strength according to the world's estimation of how things are. One minute the news tells us that we've passed a bill and things should go well, the next minute the headlines shout out that all is plunging like a roller coaster car falling off its tracks. I could feel very lost right now- if the news, the world markets, the leaders of this world dictate my future. But they don't.

So here I am, ready to go through Abby's lessons for the day, and it seems God has a lesson plan for me as well. According to those wonderful memories of our vacation, He is taking me through the simple steps of seeing something in its reality and acknowledging the application for my life.

God is reminding me of the turtle we fell in love with on our vacation. We picked him up and held him, and he didn't creep back into his shell in fear. He poked his head out and I think he was actually smiling. He must have known that the strong loving hands that held him would never let him fall or crash.

And that's all you have to know, sometimes: that when the world is shaky, God's hands are not. He holds you, firmly, lovingly, and you are therefore more than okay.

Love and Relief

There are some days when I have a lot of petitions, complaints and questions that I bring before God, but this is not one of those days. Today is a day of peace, both inner and manifested. My son is well. He is not critical or in danger. And that means that I am speechless with relief and in awe at how God worked in this situation.

I knew Alex was going to be okay when I received a text message from him at noon, yesterday, asking about bananas and exactly how do they ripen? These are the strange, delightful things that my son will often throw out to me- when he's full of questions or ready to do something silly or crazy because he is full of life.

There are certain gaps in his schooling where Alex missed simple facts and important data, such as memorizing the months of the year. I found out last year that he doesn't know the months of the year in order (I home schooled him in kindergarten so this must be my fault) yet the kid memorized the Periodic Table of the Elements for fun. Anyhow, Alex texted me a question about bananas. I furiously texted back, "Never mind bananas-Are you okay? Did you sleep well last night? Are you eating breakfast right now? How is your breathing?"

Just a few words from him about feeling surprisingly okay made me take a deep breath and sigh with relief. He told me the college nurse had him in twice to check on his breathing and that she was taking good care of him. I wanted to hug that nurse and squeeze her tight with all the relief and gratitude I felt. This is a major breakthrough for my son. If he comes through this cold without it turning into pneumonia and causing an Asthma attack, this will be a big deal. A very big deal.

Weeks before Alex left for college, he wound up getting the Pneumococcal vaccination. It happened only because his sister was sick, again, with a sinus infection and her doctor brought up having her tested to see if this vaccine would help. Alex's health history was brought up, and they were both tested. Abby didn't need the vaccine, they said, but Alex did. A shot in the arm was administered- which Alex took cheerfully. We had no idea that this vaccine would prove to be an ally in battle.

So my son is well enough to send text messages about green bananas and about the pizza he ate last night. He is still standing. I am too, for that matter. Standing on the promises of God, as that old hymn goes, and standing tall and strong in love and relief. I have no big questions to ask of God today. I don't want to discuss with God any plaguing questions I've had about justice or war or what seems to be unfair in life.

I am quiet with awe right now. My son was not only rescued but I was too. While fear rose up within me, something greater rose up as well. My cry went out to God. He heard my voice. He hears mothers everywhere. He listens to the lonely. He cares about the downtrodden. He lifts up those who have fallen. And everywhere you look, you'll find God at work, somehow, in some way, in a miracle in the making...if you will just wait long enough to see what He will do when you ask God to carry you through.

Inquiring Hearts Want to Know...His Love

Remember that old 1980's TV ad, "Inquiring Minds want to know"? Well, they still do. This mind- mine- especially. I almost can see the Lord shaking His head and saying with wonder, "This child can't get enough of My answers." The problem is, the Lord isn't saying this with a smile, really. It's more of a pained look on His face because I'm after what He holds in His hands, rather than what He holds in His heart for me.

Yesterday was stressful. I won't go into everything, but the day ended with me deciding to take a prayer walk. I brought my daughter with me, and we walked vigorously up and down the street in front of the town library, talking, praying, walking. We had not quite finished when all of a sudden the skies opened and down came the rain. We raced to the car parked in the library parking lot where we had earlier returned a DVD. I drove out of the library on the curbed, winding road and managed to hit the curb,popping my tire. I parked the car in the library parking lot again, called my husband, and watched as the rain gushed down even more.

Bill arrived, jacked up the car, put on the spare tire- all in the pouring rain. Then, within minutes, he was done, and we both drove home. He's a good man. It was a long day. And that flat tire was the easiest part of my day. It was fixable. (At least for my husband, it was). There are other big issues in my life that cannot be remedied that quickly.

That flat tire let me know that some things can be taken care of rather quickly. Some problems end within minutes of occurring. And some problems are with us a long time. But longer than that is His grace for us, His love and compassion. It's higher than the heavens, deeper than the ocean. And God is inviting me to explore this vast realm of His love. He says its far better for me to explore the wonders of His love for me than for my inquiring mind to seek out answers.

Staying Around for More

Lingering at the table after a good meal, for the sake of just talking, is something you don't see much of. Every one's busy nowadays and it's rare that families eat meals together as a usual thing. Because it was such a major component of my life when I was growing up, I just planned that it would be the same for our family of four- and it has been a pretty sure thing that we eat supper together every single night.

Now, I try to do my part in making the kids want to be there by not doing some of the things that my mother did when I was growing up. Like, for example, serving a strange looking dish with something brown and firm looking centered on the plate, and me asking her, "Mom, what's this?". She answered me in a light breezy way, "Oh, that's just...meat" and went back to puttering around on the stove. My suspicions were definitely raised, because if it was ground beef or chicken or steak she could have just said so. But since she tried to sneak venison or squirrel or God-only-knows what animal onto my plate, I was even more on guard every time I came to the dinner table. That's how it was at my home when I was growing up: my parents were determined to get us eating very strange, healthy things- and we kids were determined to find out what these things were before they entered our mouths.

It's stressful having dinner and playing "Name that Animal on Your Plate". But for some families, the stress of the family meal has to do with what's missing. It's uncomfortable to hang around and talk after a meal because...well, we don't talk to each other before meals or between meals, so why start now?

I thought about this during Church this morning. Actually, I thought about it after the service was over, and we were invited to linger as the Worship Team played on. Many of us stayed in the sanctuary. We stayed in our seats, some of us with our head in our hands, some standing and clapping, some sitting quietly as the worship team stayed and the band played on. And on.

It was so good. I didn't want to leave. It was like we had just been given a very good meal- adequate and nutritious. But then we decided to stay and linger. And by lingering around the table of bounty, the table of fellowship, everyone became more aware of just how good a spiritual meal we had just received. Interestingly, statistics tell us that it takes twenty minutes after we've eaten a meal to feel full- and I think there may be a spiritual correlation as well. Those who lingered were starting to experience the fullness, the weighty presence of God. Our cup was getting filled and filled. Right then. Our faith reservoir was being refreshed.

I heard God whisper to my spirit, "Just linger here at my table." And I did. I just gave in and lingered in the beautiful enveloping peace of His presence. I realized many times God has offered me sustenance and refreshing and I took a bite or a sip and then rushed off- and I could have had more. So much more.

So Bill and I lingered. We stayed. "Thou preparest a table before me..." the psalmist writes- and not just when your enemies are around you. He also prepares a table at every point you need more. It's good to linger at the table where God is there with food for your soul, wind for your sails. By lingering on, you're telling God you believe He has more for you.You're showing God that you see Him as Your Provider, Your Sustainer, Your Bread of Life. And there's more, always more, for those who wait on Him.

That Kind of Faith

It's not often that I read through the gospels and picture myself in the crowd of people who flocked to Jesus, hanging on His words. But this past week I had to ask myself if I lived in Jesus' time on earth, how would I have responded to Him? I was reading through Mark chapter 6. This is where Jesus declares that a prophet is without honor in his own country, and where he could do no great miracles there except heal a few sick people, because of...unbelief. It says "He marveled because of their unbelief."

Over in Matthew's gospel, chapter 8, we have the account of the Centurion coming to Jesus, declaring his belief that Jesus could heal his servant at home with just a word from Jesus. Jesus heard the Centurion's confident declaration of belief, and "He marveled, and said...'I have not found such great faith, not even in Israel."

Now I've been thinking about this. This is a serious question. Would I be one of the ones who Jesus was marveling at, astounded, because of my unbelief- or would He be smiling and marveling over my great faith and confident conviction of His Lordship and Power?

One of the worst phrases, in my mind, that anyone could hear would be the words, "Oh ye of little faith." May that not ever be said of me, to me, by the Lord. And yet, I may have heard these words whispered to my heart- in truth. I don't want to hear that said of me any more. Little faith is faith that trusts little, lacks confidence in God's willingness to reach out and meet us where we are at. It is under developed faith, a faith that has not risen in strength and conviction.

I want to be the kind of faith-filled woman that God loves to respond to, that God can work with. May He marvel that I believe Him, take Him at His word, in times of drought and darkness, and in times of abundance and light. This is the work of faith. It's an exciting work, a liberating journey, a path that winds upward. And what happens on this path of faith is simply marvelous.


"Marvelous are Your works, and that my soul knows very well." Ps.139:14

Battle Strategy- Part Two

It's an ongoing joke in our family about my poor vision and hearing. When I was a teenager, a fire cracker exploded in front of me and I lost my hearing for a couple minutes. Peoples' mouths were moving, but I heard nothing coming out of them. Then my hearing came back. But it's never been quite right. Now, add in to that problem my terrible vision.

My kids joke that I lip read because of my poor hearing. Maybe I do, more than I realize. If they are talking to me and my back is turned to them, I miss certain words. But if I've misplaced my glasses, taken them off while cooking, and then they try to say something to me, I'll look at them in a fog. I can't read their lips, so I can't hear exactly what they're saying.

"Your poor mother is deaf and blind," my husband will say, half teasing me. I'll roll my eyes- but I know they're right. It's clear to me that my vision and hearing are not good. It's obvious when I can't see. Everything is blurry and misshaped. When I miss something someone is saying to me, the results will be comical. Often they'll deliberately mumble something and try to get me to guess at what they just said.

What I have to remember, though, is that my spiritual sight and hearing are just as affected by weakness. I have to remember that I do not SEE everything. What I see with my eyes is not necessarily everything that's there. There is the unseen realm- and its real.

I read through Hebrews 11 this morning. Just in verses 1-13 alone, you can count at least five times where reference is made to sight. "...And certain of what we do not see...", "so that what is seen was not made out of what was visible". Noah, "when warned about things not yet seen, in holy fear built an ark" and Abraham obeyed God, "and went out not knowing where he was going". Abraham didn't see anything ahead of him. In reference to God's promises, it says that "they only saw them and welcomed them from a distance."

We don't see everything- but that doesn't mean that there isn't more than meets the eye. There is way more going on in the unseen realm than we realize. But we forget this because we are so used to gripping the supposed evidence of our support systems. We're used to seeing something, and then believing it. We fall back into the habit of thinking we are grounded and secure because we feel the ground beneath us, and see it there. It could, of course, open up and suddenly swallow us whole. But we don't believe that will happen.

Unfortunately we also don't believe that God is moving mightily in our midst if we don't see evidence of this. But I've come to realize that God likes to stack the blessings in mounds and piles and suddenly release them to us in a moment where we had no idea that He was even thinking of us. "Really God? You had all this in mind?" is what I inevitably say to Him when there is a manifestation of His grace or intervening power at a moment when I am seeing and hearing Him so faintly. Then He looms in front of me, rises up and is strong in my midst. He thunders loudly and there is no way that I can miss Him. "Can you hear me now?" that Verizon commercial retorts- and they have no idea how often, perhaps, God is asking that of us.

I haven't forgotten the RISK that I said I would take this year. Part of that risk is in purposing to see Him and perceive His presence in my life- even when I have no tangible, to-the-touch reason to do so. Some call it walking by faith. One thing we often forget is that it's not only good for us to do so, and right and fitting- but it pleases God when we take step by step- in faith. "For without faith it is impossible to please Him...".

"Believe me, Lauren," He keeps telling me. Sometimes I'm on a trail of bread crumbs and suddenly the trail stops. I look around and want to know where God is. But He whispers, "No, you just want to know where the next bread crumb is. You are not asking for enough when you ask for more crumbs." I nod in agreement. He's right. He is after all the Bread of Life- and here I was just asking for a crumb.

Lessons from the One who Stayed Home

There were many sweet moments I enjoyed over the weekend that are not quantifiable. But they're so rich I can taste them and savor them still. They fortify my soul with conviction of the Father heart of God- and how He delights to give, to share, to have me join in on what He is doing. I am "seeing" things- and I have asked God that I might have eyes to see, this year.

After Church yesterday, Bill and I were able to have a little unexpected date. Abby was at a friend's house for the afternoon, and Alex went ice fishing with his grandfather, uncle, and cousin. I was a bit nervous as the day seemed warm and I wondered if the ice at the nearby lake was strong enough.

I will honestly tell you that I told my son, before he left, "Alex, if the ice breaks- save yourself first! Then lay down on the ice, stretching your body out, and try to rescue the person that way." (As if I'm an expert on ice safety or rescue or anything at all remotely like that. What I'm an expert at is trying to watch out for my children.)

We called later in the day, from my cell phone, to see if they had returned from ice fishing. The connection was bad. I could barely hear my brother on the phone. I asked him if Alex was there or had he driven home to our house. There was a pause. Then I hear this unmistakable voice get on the line and tell me, "Alex has fallen through the ice." Nice try, my son, but I am on to your antics!

Later in the evening, the four of us were snuggled up in our bed, watching the second half of Masterpiece Theatre's gripping, romantic production, Jane Eyre. Obviously the four were: Bill, Abby, Harry and me- because Alex only watches enough of British films to learn how to imitate their accent and tease me later with it. And Harry watches British films with us because that's how he gets to snack on popcorn.

Such peace and such sweetness of....I hate to use the word, fellowship. It sounds so old fashioned, so archaic and proper. But do we have a word today that expresses the joy of being together? "Hanging out together" is the best I can do, and that term fails to express the significance of it.

Before the movie started, I was reading in my book, The Journey of Desire. I re-read the end of chapter three. I couldn't get that picture of the parable of Prodigal Son out of my mind (Luke 15). I was not so much thinking about the prodigal son but the son who had dutifully remained at home, carefully serving the Father, laboring faithfully in the family business. He's the bad guy everyone mocks because he was pouty and resentful instead of rejoicing over the prodigal brother's return.

But I don't think the prodigal is anyone to lift up as an example either. In my mind they are two extremes in the Church today. The prodigal represents the wayward, selfish, carnal Christian. He throws caution to the wind. He returns home prompted by hunger pains, really. His desire was for provision and safety- not necessarily the presence of his Father, but the provision of his Father (Luke 15:17).

But the other son, the dutiful son, is just that: dutiful, pious and self righteous. He has been careful and supposedly obedient. But when the wind was at his back, he refused to go with it. He refused to celebrate being with his Father on a daily basis, refused to avail himself of all that the Father had- and yet later wailed that the Father had never thrown him a party.

The Living version has the the father telling the dutiful son this, "Look dear son...you and I are very close, and everything I have is yours." Very close? Are they really that close? The Father was being kind. Perhaps He was being prophetic- and foreseeing the day when their physical proximity would not be the only factor of closeness.

We can be closely following the Lord, staying in His word, and yet be far away in our heart. We can be pious about our actions of discipline and obedience, yet fail to see that we are longing for a party, a celebration of grace, where we dance with joy at being in relationship with the Lord of Heaven and Earth Himself.

If I was intimately aware of the father's deep desire to give these blessings to me, I would not seem so bold but rather it would be fitting for me to ask Him freely. If I made my heart vulnerable to Him, opened up those long -held dreams I have and asked God to review with me where we are at, it would say something about how I know God.

"To live with desire is to choose vulnerability over self-protection; to admit our desire and seek help beyond ourselves is even more vulnerable. It is an act of trust. In other words, those who know their desire and refuse to kill it, or refuse to act as though they don't need help, they are the ones who live by faith. Those who do not ask, do not trust God enough to desire. They have no faith. The deepest moral issue is always what we, in the heart of hearts, believe about God. And nothing reveals this belief as clearly as what we do with our desire." (Eldredge)

I hate the idea of the selfish, carnal son returning home, mainly out of hunger for food. But what I hate even more is to think I could be like the dutiful son, at home, close to the Father- and yet so far away. The dutiful son longs for a party, a fuss made over him too- when he has the reason for the party right next to him. He lives with the Father of Celebration and Life, and yet he has never boldly requested, "Father, Let's dance! Father, can we explore together? ...and Father, can we talk, again?"

I'm going to be asking God these things, requesting more of an adventure with Him. I'm going to be asking not so much for more provision- but rather the eyes to see what He has provided already. But more than that, I'm going to snuggle in close to Him, taking in His presence, and sighing deeply with satisfaction...that I am always with Him.

He says to me, "You and I are very close. And all I have is yours."

From My Vantage Point

I finally got around to repairing one of Harry's stuffed animals. He has been playing with his goose, a little grouse, and another stuffed bird that squeaks when he chews on it. Within minutes of tossing his toy around, he will grab a hold of it and start chewing and tearing it apart until a seam bursts open. So I finally sewed up one of the stuffed birds, the other day, and plan to repair the others. He has knocked the stuffing out of them.

Harry is in the friskiest of moods, playful, and frolicking lately as though he were a puppy again. We got him from an Animal Rescue group when he was approx.nine months old, so we never saw him as a little puppy. But that has never stopped us from picking him up and cuddling him as though he were only five pounds. He had a vicious, chronic ear infection, on and off, the first couple years we had him, and we didn't realize how much this was affecting his behavior. He slept a lot, and did not play much.

Now, ear infection gone, and newly clipped, he obviously feels lighter in spirit as well. He's jumping around the living room every morning, waiting for someone to toss him his goose so that he can show off and prance around while we all talk about how wonderful he is. He'll nap a lot, still, but he seems ready for some fun every time he wakes up, instead of dozing back into LaLaLand for long stretches like he used to.

This would be his middle age, I think- if you count dog years as seven years for every one human year. He's in his middle age, like me. I'm feeling a bit hopeful that I may get my second wind as well- especially if any chronic, low lying fatigue and malaise are out of my system.

Medline Plus defines malaise as " a generalized feeling of discomfort, illness, or lack of well-being... Malaise can be accompanied by a feeling of exhaustion, or of not having enough energy to accomplish usual activities."

You could call it burn out, or exhaustion from too much stress. You may experience malaise if you got the stuffing knocked out of you, and no one noticed. I feel terrible that Harry was sick with the ear infection for so long. We did have it treated. We did try different medicines. But it was such a powerful infection that when we took him back to the vet,again, months later, because he was still whimpering over his ear getting touched, she did a more thorough culture and found out he had three strains of bacteria causing the problem. It took a powerful antibiotic, for a longer course of time, to finally knock it out of his system.

Harry couldn't tell us what was wrong. He could only sleep a lot and whimper in pain.Sometimes we thought he was milking it a little, acting like a baby. But finally we realized he was enduring something, bearing up under great pain, and getting no where in finding relief- until the day we got to the root of it.

I can't always put my finger on the spot, either, when it comes to understanding what's troubling me. Sometimes I just know that I am troubled or fatigued. But I forget to assess if I got the stuffing knocked out of me. I'm quick to admonish myself to just get going, keep moving, and stop being a baby.

But sometimes I hear something that troubles me or I experience a break down in communication with someone I love. Last year, ironically in the Spring, I went through a dark season of sadness and sickness and financial instability. I felt pummeled and pounded into the ground.I felt like Harry's goose, with the stuffing all over and a big gaping wound.

Right now I'm doing pretty well. Feeling strong, at least strong enough to keep letting my teenage son know that he is not the boss, strong enough to go on countless shopping trips and errands with my daughter, strong enough to look at the future and tell my husband that I have no idea where I am heading. He nods his head in agreement, looking at me. He can tell I'm not happy about my lack of answers, but I'm not destroyed or in despair, either.

I don't think I have a low lying malaise but if I do, God will resurrect me again- of that I'm sure. I've been in the valley so many times, and have made the ascent to the hills, over and over again. It's been a journey that makes me know He will always revive me, repair me, when my stuffing is knocked out of me.

"Though the fig tree may not blossom, nor fruit be on the vines" (Hab 3:17), though I fall down or need to get my second wind- He will give me all I need to go another round.

If I go down to the valley, even there- because I have been there before- I will look up and see the high hills.

Following Yonder Star

Christmas has been a a rather quiet celebration, for me, these last twenty three years of marriage. Quiet, in comparison. Before I married my husband, and then had two children, Christmas with my parents and siblings was always a bit more boisterous, chaotic and celebrative. Did I emphasize chaotic? With five kids, a dog and two parents- one German sauerbraten cooking mother and a Latin Saturday morning pancake slinging father- it was wonderfully chaotic.

We were diverse in temperament, personality, weaknesses, strengths. We were a volatile lot. My oldest brother was a choleric drill sergeant from the moment he was born- he later became a colonel in the Army. The second oldest, my brother Mark, was a gentle soul, artistic, talented and basically a rescuer- at least he rescued me from my older brother who would march me around the house in practise drills. Then there were we three girls. (I won't even go there). Last, but not least, the most Christian of us all- our dog, our Springer Spaniel, Ginger. My Dad used to say she was the most Christ-like of us all because she was so patient, and long suffering.

There we all would be, on Christmas Eve at home. We'd sing Christmas carols after having gone to church. We had to do our own version of these Carols. Without an organ, without a guitar, we would gather in the family room and sing. One Christmas carol in particular, had to be sung. It had to.

It was “We three Kings”. And it was predominantly sung by my Dad and my brothers. Joe could sing loudly and clearly, and Mark could quietly carry a tune. But my Dad sounded like a bull frog going through puberty. Maybe that's why we loved hearing them sing this carol.

We all would sing verse one together-

We three kings of Orient are,
Bearing gifts we traverse afar,
Field and fountain, morr and mountain,
Following yonder Star.

Joe would do verse two, singing confidently and a bit braggadociously. Then they'd all do the chorus. Mark would sing verse three, after some prodding. Then the chorus again.

Then, verse four- it was my Dad's turn to sing. We all would hold our breath and wait for his deep, low mournful voice to sing those beautiful, tragic words:

Myrrh is mine; its bitter perfume
Breathes a life of gathering gloom;
Sorrowing, sighing, bleeding, dying,
Seal'd in the stone-cold tomb.

That's always when we would remember, not with joy and feasting, but with awe and wonder, what Christ came to earth to do- to die for us. Sometimes there would be a solemn hush in the room as Dad sang his verse. Some years we would burst our laughing as Dad croaked his way through the song. And some years, if it had been a hard, long, bittersweet year, Dad would cry as he sang the verse and our eyes would well up with tears.

Sorrowing, sighing, bleeding, dying- sometimes some of us know that experience all too well. But then again, our Savior knows that experience. More than anyone.

Then the triumphant end of the song would come, with a burst, with a shout almost, as all of us- the girls included- would join in with the last round of the chorus:

O, star of wonder, star of might,
Star with royal beauty bright,
Westward leading, still proceeding,
Guide us to the perfect light.

He's guiding us....still. Out of darkness, and always into the light.

On the Road

My life changed again on Friday with the words, "He passed." She smiled at me and I didn't know whether to thank her or throw myself at her feet and beg her to take it back. My son passed his road test. He is a fully licensed driver, about to enter the roads and highways of the world at large. Literally. And within a couple days of getting his license we have a storm, ice, and slippery road conditions.

It's not so much his driving that I am concerned with. He's pretty conscientious, and took longer to apply for his license than other boys his age. But now that he has it, he is out there, along with his friends, driving to good times, and exposed to bad times. Exposed to risk. More risk. Just what I need.

"Alex, I'm not so much concerned about you as I am about the other drivers out there on the road, " I told him. "Just consider it a given that there are lousy drivers, wild drivers, drivers falling asleep at the wheel, and that they're out there on the same road you are driving on. Be watchful. That's about all you can be" I told him.

I'm happy for this next open door for him, and at the same time taking a deep breath. I'll have to be enlarged in my capacity to watch someone go out further into the world, knowing that the world is not a hospitable place. It's occasionally a delightful place to be, sometimes a wonderful place to be, but it's not hospitable.

The apostle Paul knew that and he declared it, even if by declaring it he sounded morbid or fatalistic. He wasn't. He was just extremely familiar with the punches, the snares, and the chains that the world specialized in.

He was telling his friends, his loved ones at the fellowship, that he knew what was ahead. He was not starry eyed about the kind of journey he was on. "And see, now I go bound in the spirit to Jerusalem, not knowing the things that will happen to me there except that the Holy Spirit testifies in every city, saying that chains and tribulations await me" Acts 20:22,23.

Chains and tribulations await me- how nice to know. Well, it may not be nice to know, but it's crucial that we know the rules of the game, that we know the realities of the world, the critical nature of the task or of the stage we are in. If I am going into uncharted territory, I at least would like to know the overall description of the territory I am about to walk into- is it rocky, is it green, is it harsh? I'd like to gear up for what's ahead.

Now I am not anticipating my son having a terrible time out there on the roads. I am aware, though, that he is going out further and further from the realm of safety, our home. But then again our home is not always a safe place to be.

Home should be a place where we are tested and refined just as much as if we were out in the world. It's just that the trials and testings that occur in our home should also come with comforting times and times of restoration, right at home. It should be the best of places and the worst of places- because it's real. Because home is where people live and thats the problem right there. People make mistakes. And you live with these people. You are one of these mistake-making people. I am one of them. Let the grace flow, then. Let the grace flow.

I wanted to write a jolly Christmas themed post today but I can't. I'm just not in a jolly mood. Not that I'm cranky or angry. Really. (I'm smiling contemplatively as I write this- can you tell?) What I am is... circumspect. From the Latin-circumspicere -to look around, be cautious. I'm counting the costs.

But I think you can count the costs and still count it all joy that you get to have a son who is stretching out, going out into the world, and most of all, taking that risk of entering a place that holds promise and problems, delights and danger. It's just the way the world is.

I also want to anticipate good; I want to expect joy. I want to anticipate the grace God gives, the messages He sends to our spirit readying us for what's ahead, and the hope He gives that nothing, nothing, nothing shall separate us from the love of God. I have a teenage driver on the road. You have a loved one who is sick. She has a husband out of work, over there in that corner of the world. And oh yes, I hear you too, calling out the fierce dilemma you are in. God hears even more so. He has readied the resources for our reality.

The roads are rough or sometimes wonderful. But I always hear this, every time I step out on a road that makes me feel shaky and vulnerable. I always hear God whisper daringly, "You haven't even begun to scratch the surface of my grace and power." The power that gets displayed- in my weakness. The grace that is poured out so freely that it's extravagant and shocking. When I taste just a bit of this provoking power of God, I can't turn back- even if I'm scared at what may be ahead.

I don't want to miss how God will show up. I don't want to miss how He will always, always have the last word, the final triumphant shout of victory in my life, in spite of my fears or hesitation.

I know there are more challenges ahead for me. Way more than just having a teenage driver on the road.

But I'm getting the sense that I don't have to make myself ready for anything except for....Him- showing up....Showing up Big Time.

Refuel Here

Sometimes I pray the most effectively when I don't use any words. My sighing tells God that I am feeling broken or exhausted. And when He hears my sighs, He breathes on me anew and fills me.

Sometimes, though, I am not meant to be comforted by God. Sometimes He has to provoke me...to stand. It might be required of me to put on a rather militaristic uniform of conviction and begin an uprising of sorts. I have to take a stand. I have to lift my chin in defiance of what would take me down- whether that's fear, discouragement, or lack of vision. Instead of flailing my arms and quoting a bunch of Scripture, I will, instead, eye my enemy with a look of "You're not going to win here, bucko" and then just stand there. I may stand in the middle of the living room, silently, with the dog giving me a glance of confusion. Then he'll sigh and go back to sleep. (Harry, my dog, may need to learn a bit about having a warrior spirit, but that will have to be another matter I tackle later).

I went to bed, last night, reading John Maxwell's book, Talent is Not Enough- which probably wasn't a good idea. Great book, wrong time to read it. The book has sound instruction regarding initiating, focusing, preparing, persevering...but it fails to inspire me. I just don't get inspired to return to "the fight" through instructions and details about how to execute the steps leading to success and potential realized.

If John Maxwell appeared on my door step with the words, "Congratulations! You've won a day with me- the premier Christian Leadership Expert in the U.S.! Now what would you like to talk about or learn from me?"- this is what I would do.

I would invite him in, make a pot of hot tea, set the table with my favorite mismatched china- colorful and cheerful. I'd put pumpkin muffins on the table that I retrieved from the freezer, light an apple spice candle, and pour the tea. Then I'd look him in the eye and say this:

"I appreciate the information in the book. Now please tell me about a time in your life when what you knew in your head wasn't enough to help your heart. Tell me about a time when information and strategy failed, and yet you received 'a word' to go on."

If he didn't know what I meant, I would share about the times when God sent me a word, so that I would "know the word that sustains the weary". (Isaiah 50:4) Call it a prophetic word. Call it a word of counsel and insight.

At every major turning point in my life, there's usually been something I heard in the back of my head, a quiet phrase of lucidity that resounded in my darkness. Sometimes it's not even a phrase, or a sentence. Sometimes it's just one word.

The word for me, right now, is Satisfaction. Sounds carnal or selfish, at first. But Scripture resounds with this concept of God's people being satisfied in- and only because of-Him.

"For He satisfies the longing soul, and fills the hungry soul with goodness." Ps. 107:9

Yes, He satisfies- and when He does, it's like a refueling. At least it's a refueling of the things that should be refueled. When He satisfies us "with good things so that your youth is renewed like the eagle's"(Ps. 103:5) what are you going to do with that sense of renewed youth?

Satisfaction leads to action. You decide to go back to the fight, to take on that mountain after all. Or maybe you decide to get off the mountain that you were encircling for too long. One mountain we should never stay on is the mountain of frustration. There's a principle clearly defined in the Scriptures- the man who works his field will be satisfied with bread. The One who looks to God will be satisfied. The one who comes empty, to His throne, will go away filled.

"To know the love of Christ which passes knowledge; that you may be filled with all the fullness of God" Ephesians 3: 19 tells us, referring to how God satisfies us. He satisfies us by filling us up. God's objective? "That you may be filled with all the fullness of God."

The word in Greek is pleroma- meaning full number, full complement, full measure, plenitude. My commentary, describing this fullness, gives the example of "a ship with a full cargo, a town with no empty houses."

Or in my case, I would describe it this way-

"A Woman with all her marbles. She's satisfied, and ready to go on."

A Lesson from the Widow of Zarephath- part two

I can be a bit confusing, I suppose, talking about provision and prophets visiting widow's houses- but I didn't write this story, God did. (1 Kings 17:8-16) I am fascinated by the scene of the widow of Zarephath with her last bit of resources and her fear that she was at the end.

It's easy to panic when you think you are at a breaking point- whether it's financially, emotionally or circumstantially. But the scene at the widow's house is pretty much like today: it was the worst of times, and it was the best of times. It was a time when Israel's worst king reigned on the throne, and God's powerful prophet, Elijah, had just come on the scene. And of all places, Elijah's first miracle was done at the widow of Zarephath's house. What a commentary that is!

If God had "commanded" the widow "to provide" for the prophet Elijah, how did God get that message to the woman? Did she hear that call to do something drastic- by faith- in her spirit? Did she sense the integrity of the word of the Lord spoken through the prophet himself when he asked her for a "morsel of bread" to eat?

You have to understand, in biblical times, the Jewish principle of receiving a person's representative. You received a person "in the name of " that person- and received their sent message or provision. That's why in Matt 10:41 it says "He who receives a prophet in the name of a prophet shall receive a prophet's reward...." There were plenty of false prophets, even in Elijah's day, and yet the woman identified correctly that he came in the name of the Lord, as an ambassador of God's word to the people- and she received his word to her-"Do not fear". She made some food for him to eat- the last of what she had.

The widow gave out of the last bit she had- in obedience, by faith, with a conviction of something big enough to launch her out into the scene of "God....please show up!" and HE DID. We see a picture of a widow in the New Testament, doing something like that. Jesus was watching the giving taking place, and saw a poor widow put in her last two coins ( Mark 12:41-44) and though it was less than what everyone else had given, it was actually MORE than all the others had given because "she -out of her poverty- put in all that she had, her whole livelihood."

Her whole livelihood. Merriam-Webster's online dictionary defines this word's origin as "Middle English livelode course of life, .... means of support or subsistence"

Widows struggle with this issue of means of support and provision. So do many people. If you are self-employed, your means of subsistence seem to be centered squarely on your shoulders. If you're launching a business, you're on your own. Sometimes you can feel like you are carrying the weight of a problem or the weight of trying to give birth to a dream. You can think you are near the end of your total reserves. Often you give sacrificially, and it is the last of what you have...that you can see.

If you've walked away from a job with a pink slip in your hands, or you walked away from the doctor's office with a bad report, it would be easy to think your fate- your means of support or subsistence- are determined by these things. THEY ARE NOT.

It's what the Word of the Lord tells me, in the face of my fears, that determines how well I am doing and what to do next. I, personally, have set out to write and speak forth the word and counsel of God, but I could run out of resources to do so. That's the reality. My well could run dry. My physical, financial reserves are at their low, right now. But its not my job to replenish them. My job is to obey, to be faithful to the call, to walk by faith, to hear the word of the Lord spoken to me- through whomever and whatever circumstances He chooses to use. God is reminding me to visit the widow's house, the place HE chose for Elijah's first miracle, and look at faith in action.

If you're looking with me, we are surveying her shelves. The jar of oil is at its end. The flour bin looks empty. But I see her running to make a meal- her last- to give it first to the one who spoke the word of the Lord to her. I see her, face determined to not fear in the face of unsettling circumstances. I watch her arms vigorously make the bread and she serves it to that old prophet with a conviction of resolute faith in the provision of God. Her livelihood is tied up in all that God calls her to.

And I nod my head in agreement with her, thanking her for reminding me that I can do it, even do it afraid- everything HE Calls me to.

"I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want. I can do everything through him who gives me strength." Philippians 4:12-13, NIV